


From Out of the Ashes

by Isabeau_Gower



Category: Iron Man (Movies), The Avengers (2012)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-06-29
Updated: 2012-06-29
Packaged: 2017-11-08 20:04:09
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,141
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/446989
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Isabeau_Gower/pseuds/Isabeau_Gower
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The war is over and Steve Rogers is still trying to find his way in a new world.  With too much time on his hands, he remembers his argument with Tony on the helicarrier and wishes he could take back his angry words.  Knowing that he needs to make a new start and find his way in the 21st century, maybe making amends to Stark is a good place to start.</p>
            </blockquote>





	From Out of the Ashes

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: Iron Man/Tony Stark and Captain America/Steve Rogers are the property of Marvel Comics. "Wish You Were Here" is the property of Pink Floyd.  
> This is a work of fanfiction. No copyright infringement is intended and I make no money from the telling of this story.

Steve Rogers clutched the handlebars of his motorcycle and rode aimlessly west. Miles and minutes became counties and hours that turned into states and days. He had started in New York City, freshly washed and with a change of clothes, but still battered and bruised and tasting the lingering flavor of shawarma. Now, he found himself staring at the Pacific Ocean.

Steve had vague memories of various stops along the way. There were diners and motels and Laundromats because even a superhero needs food, sleep, and clean underwear. Now though, there was a vast ocean staring back at him, challenging Steve to explain this impromptu pilgrimage and he found that he had no good answers, just a growing sense of unease.

Behind him on the Venice Beach boardwalk, a street musician played an intricate series of notes on an acoustic guitar. Steve’s attention was divided between the music and the ocean as he listened appreciatively to the man’s skill and from the corner of his eye Steve saw a small crowd form around the man. When the musician began to sing, Steve noticed several people in the growing circle mouthing the words along, so he guessed that the song was a well known piece and not necessarily something the man had composed himself.

The words of the song reached the tired superhero and pulled him forward as though he was a fish being reeled in on a line. “Did you exchange a walk on part in a war for a lead role in a cage?” the man crooned before the common refrain, “wish you were here.”

Reaching for his wallet, Steve pulled out a five dollar bill, tossed it into the musician’s guitar case, and made himself walk away from the unsettling music. No matter how far he walked, Steve could still hear the first line that had finally grabbed his full attention away from the lure of the waves. “Did they get you to trade your heroes for ghosts?”

There were so many ghosts in his past: friends, enemies, complete strangers whose faces he could still see when he closed his eyes; and now Agent Coulson, the man who had so openly admired him, was added to the eerie roll call that paraded through Steve’s memories. 

There was another individual who, for a brief moment, he thought he’d also lost, but Steve had brazenly told that man that he was no hero. Steve cringed as he remembered the cruel words he’d flung at Tony Stark and then the bastard had to go and court death in the cold vastness of outer space to save them from a nuclear strike launched by their own people.

Steve shook his head violently trying to dislodge all of the disturbing thoughts that had chased him from coast to coast. Nothing in this new time, this new world, made any sense to him. Like a light bulb going on, it suddenly occurred to Steve that if he couldn’t comprehend the age he was in, there was no way he would ever understand someone that vexed him as much as Tony did. It also occurred to him that everything he did know, everything he’d used to formulate the accusations he’d flung so viciously at the billionaire playboy had come from Nick Fury. The team had all found out the hard way that: one, Nick had his own agenda, and, two, Nick and Tony did not play well together.

Steve briefly toyed with the idea of asking the other members of the Initiative for help but Black Widow and Hawkeye were on SHIELD’s payroll and staunchly in the Nick Fury column. Thor spent time on Earth, but had no interest in anything outside those he cared for. Bruce Banner spent most of his time trying to help those forgotten by the world and maybe trying to catch a case of anonymity if it ever proved to be contagious. No, Steve thought grimly, if he wanted the unbiased truth, he would have to find a way to dig it up himself.

*

It took six months for Steve to piece together a more accurate version of the life and times of Tony Stark and what he’d found, he was sure, was by no means complete. There was the public image, the playboy persona that had first covered one kind of pain and, later, a different kind altogether.

Steve had known Howard Stark and had considered him to be a good friend. Meeting Tony had seemed like finding an evil clone, but the truth was that Steve hadn’t truly known either man well enough. Howard was brilliant, decades ahead of his peers, and his genius and legacy had passed to his son, but his work schedule had left little time for affection and he’d died too soon to give Tony the things a son needs the most. 

When Tony lost his parents, he lost not only his only living connections to the world at large, but also the chance to win his father’s pride, approval, and respect. The doors that connected him emotionally to the world slammed closed. Tony did exactly what so many young people apparently did in this strange new era and turned to alcohol and nameless sex to fill the bottomless void.

Even his remaining father figure, Howard’s friend Obadiah Stane, eventually betrayed Tony and tried to have him killed. Stane used Tony’s inventions to kill thousands of people, soldiers and innocent civilians alike, and then served Tony up to his terrorist customers like a sacrifice.

No matter how hard Steve searched, Tony’s captivity was a hole Steve couldn’t completely fill in. There were debriefings, but they all sounded strangely thin. Steve eventually found a reporter who mentioned Golmira and Tony’s stunned reaction to its attack. 

Steve had already guessed that Golmira was Iron Man’s first adventure at playing superhero, but Steve had thought that it was just a testing ground. The notion that it might be personal, coupled with the missing scientist from Golmira who had saved Tony’s life changed his vision of those events drastically.

Dr. Yinsen wasn’t just a co-captive or even just the man whose creative surgical solution had pulled Tony back from the brink of death. Yinsen was the man who taught Tony how to live again. He was the father figure who had gotten it right and then Tony lost him too.

The pattern of Tony’s life changed drastically after his escape. First, Tony tried to be honest, tell people who he was and what he’d done. SHIELD had decided that they knew better and tried to save him from himself. There were still wild parties and groups of women on his arm. Oddly, however, each lady Steve had managed to track down lamented that it was the other lucky girl who’d gotten to go home with the handsome bachelor. 

Extravagant purchases were now donated to art museums, colleges, and non-profit groups. Parties were charity benefits and appearances were well documented to cover over just how rare they’d become. A recent inquiry to Jarvis on Steve’s last trip to New York City, carefully worded to seem innocuous, revealed that Tony routinely spent nearly 80% of his waking hours locked inside his lab.

Steve found himself back on his motorcycle a great deal lately, though now his problem was more a matter of making sense of all that he’d learned. Now, eight months after his revelation on the beach, Steve drove back into New York City and tried to decide if he was impressed with how much of the devastation had been cleared away and repaired or over how many scarred buildings seemed to be exactly the way they had been when he last saw them. It would be years, he supposed, before the city fully recovered, but he believed in his heart that it would. America was a resilient place full of creators and dreamers and that, at least, hadn’t changed. 

The building that had once been Stark Tower and which Steve had so disparaged was now fully repaired and had become Avengers Tower, a home base for any of the team who wanted it. Stark Enterprises still occupied the lower three quarters of the building, but even with all of Tony’s labs and the extra facilities set aside to entice Bruce Banner to stick around, there were still eighteen floors of living space left over. Stark set aside the upper floors for himself and then, in a communal space for the team, put in a massive gym, a gourmet kitchen, a living room and a media room, even a secure briefing room to make Fury happy, and then converted the rest of the space into luxurious private apartments. 

Pepper Potts had tracked Steve down at his hotel in DC last week to let him know about the modifications and to ask if he would be interested in one of the units. Despite the way there were brought together, Steve was committed to the Avengers Initiative. Clearly the team had been needed and would be needed again someday. Having everyone living and training together was a good idea. There was just one little thing he needed to do first. 

“I need to talk to Mr. Stark,” Steve replied.

*

…which is how Steve found himself, one week later, standing in front of the door to Tony’s private labs, a large bag of shawarma and fries in one hand, a bottle of Johnny Walker Black Label blended scotch whiskey in the other and wondering just why he thought this might be a good idea.

The plain white walls and reinforced door stood unhelpfully in front of Rogers and the palm print door ID reader at shoulder height mocked his full hands. A door buzzer below the main panel was lit to show a way out of his dilemma and Steve raised the arm holding the bottle of scotch and pushed the small button with his elbow.

After a brief delay, the door slid open and music blared out into the hallway for a second before it modulated from deafening to merely loud. Then, Steve heard Jarvis’ cool tones invite, “please go in, Captain Rogers. Mr. Stark will be with you as soon as the fire is out.”

“Fire,” Steve asked quietly.

Tony burst into the space and waved a hand dismissively. “Controlled explosion; needed to test the ignition threshold of a new mix for some toys for Hawkeye. Jarvis exaggerates. Not a problem. Is that shawarma?” Tony finally paused to take a breath and sniff the air, focusing on the bag in Steve’s hand.

“I do not exaggerate,” Jarvis replied haughtily as Steve set the bag of food and the bottle on a low glass table in front of a large sofa. “I merely report the facts.”

“Whatever,” Tony responded, knowing he couldn’t win. “Shawarma and,” Tony paused to turn the bottle around and raised an eyebrow curiously. “And scotch,” Tony finished his observation. “What’s the occasion?” The scotch on the table wasn’t what Tony drank at home or served at the office, but then Rogers likely couldn’t have afforded that. He was familiar with it from drinking at bars and parties though and it was decent enough to make Tony wonder what prompted Steve to spend the money on it.

Steve took a deep breath and answered honestly, “It’s an apology of sorts.”

“Tell me you’ve got extra tahini sauce in here and, whatever it is, we’ll call it even,” Tony quipped as he pillaged the contents of the takeout bag and set them out on the coffee table.

“Stark, I’m serious,” Steve insisted, his voice rising slightly above the level of the music.

Tony paused to gauge the look in Steve’s eyes. “Damn,” he responded quietly. “Look, food first, at least one scotch second, and then serious, okay?” Stark appealed.

Steve chuckled. As negotiations with the billionaire usually went, it wasn’t unreasonable and he nodded before reaching to grab one of the sandwiches for himself.

Ten minutes later Tony sat back, patted his stomach, and stared with great satisfaction at the paper wrappers and foam cartons that constituted the only remains of their dinner.

“Now can we talk?” Steve asked.

Tony sighed. “How much of that,” he paused to point at the bottle of scotch sitting innocently on the table, “am I going to need? More than one?”

Steve blushed slightly thinking of how much of Tony’s privacy he’d invaded in his pursuit of the truth and nodded in response.

“Ooooohkay,” Tony responded. “In that case, we’re going upstairs where I can drink in comfort and out of something other than a beaker.” Standing and grabbing the bottle, Stark lead the way to the door and over to his private elevator. “Come on.”

Steve followed quietly as Tony walked them through to a small room near the top floor, dimly lit, with large, well cushioned chairs. One wall of the room was a massive window revealing the nighttime New York City skyline.

“Wow,” Steve commented breathily as he dropped into one of the chairs.

“Not bad is it?” Tony joked back as he moved to the small bar to fetch glasses and ice. “On the rocks, splash of soda, or neat?” he asked.

Steve had a moment of panic. He’d brought the scotch as a peace offering to Stark, but hadn’t intended to drink any of it himself. Tony had that look though, the look that says, ‘the choices I just gave you are the only options open to you so you’d better pick one’, and Steve’s nerves suggested that maybe a drink wasn’t such a bad idea anyway. “Umm, rocks,” he finally answered, thinking that over ice might be easier to nurse along.

Tony Stark smiled in a way that would have done the Cheshire Cat proud and poured two very large scotches before handing one to Steve and taking the chair next to him.

Steve looked grim as he contemplated the drink, but took a quick sip so that Tony would stop staring at him. “I came to apologize,” Steve said as he set the heavy crystal glass on a small table between the chairs.

Tony stared at him, clearly not comprehending Steve’s mission.

Steve shifted forward on the seat and tried to meet Stark’s eyes as he spoke. “I said some rotten things to you on the helicarrier, things you didn’t deserve. I came to apologize. I’m sorry.”

Tony shifted uncomfortably in his seat and took a sip of his drink. “I seem to remember giving as good as I got that day and what you said was a lot closer to the truth than the crap I was flinging around so let’s just forget it, okay?”

Steve hadn’t come all this way to forget it and he forged on. “I said you weren’t a hero. I didn’t know. I didn’t understand.” 

“I said you came out of a bottle,” Tony shot back, “and we both know that wasn’t true. The army scientists tried over and over again with what Dad could piece together of the Doctor’s formula. You’re the only person the serum ever worked on and I think it only worked then because of who you are inside. I make fun, but that’s just me, you know? You’re the real deal. You were a soldier before the serum. It just gave you a body to match your heart.” Tony paused and took another drink before what Steve had said finally clicked. “Wait, what did you mean you didn’t understand?”

Steve took a drink, paused, took another, and set his glass down before he answered. “I’m this fossil on the team, stuck in the 40’s. It’s bad enough with everyone else, but with you, I keep comparing you to Howard and it’s not fair.”

Tony looked away from his teammate and stared at the city lights before taking a sip of his drink. “Dad did some amazing things, things I never would have thought of trying if Fury hadn’t dumped some of Dad’s old materials in front of me.” He paused and took another drink. “I must have been a hell of a disappointment.” Tony said it to Steve, but even he wasn’t sure, in his own mind, if he meant to Steve, to Howard, or to both.

“That’s what I mean,” Steve replied emphatically. “You’re a great scientist and engineer. You’ve accomplished things I’m not sure Howard could have ever pulled off under the same circumstances. He had government support, concrete bunkers, and no one shooting at him. You did what you did mostly on your own and under fire from friends and enemies alike. It wasn’t fair of me to be disappointed that you weren’t him. That’s just me missing my own past,” he finished sadly.

“I get it,” Tony answered easily. “You’d lost so many people when you woke up and decades had passed you by. He was a good friend.” Tony paused for a quick drink and chuckled. “Hell, the way he used to talk I think he was more than half in love with you.”

Tony’s joking comment danced a little too close to something Steve had shied away from for most of his life so he picked up his drink, slammed back what remained, and set the empty glass on the table. “It was a long time ago,” Steve finally said. “Things changed, people changed. The world moved on without me and I keep trying to hang on to things the way they were.”

Tony noticed the way Steve downed his drink, but didn’t comment on it. “There’s nothing wrong with remembering the good old days,” he said glibly as he stood, picked up their empty glasses, and walked back to the bar for a refill. “There’s Betty Grable, Jane Russell, Veronica Lake, Rita Hayworth, Carol Lombard,” Tony recited as he ticked off ladies on his fingers.

Steve shrugged his shoulders, starting to feel the effects of the first scotch he, so unwisely, downed and mumbled back, “I was more of a Myrna Loy guy, I guess.”

Tony arched an eyebrow curiously and made a surreptitious note on the PDA in his pocket to look up and order everything Myrna Loy had ever appeared in. He liked taking things apart to see how they worked, but people were far more difficult for him. Knowing what people liked, though, and why, sometimes helped. Thinking about the mystery that was Steve Rogers reminded him of his earlier unanswered question. “What didn’t you understand?” Tony pressed as he handed Steve a second glass of scotch and retook his chair.

“You pretend to be an ass, but you really are a hero,” Steve commented earnestly as he sipped at his refilled drink. “You drive yourself harder than anyone around you chasing some kind of reparation or redemption and you aren’t willing to risk anyone’s life but your own. You didn’t set out to be a hero, but you didn’t shy away from it when the time came either. You just don’t want to let anyone know.”

Tony was glad that Steve was more than a little tipsy at this point as he turned his head and tried to hide his shock. Where the hell had all of this come from, he wondered. Tony swirled the amber liquid in his newly refilled glass, clanking the ice loudly in the otherwise silent room. “Clearly you haven’t been paying attention to your SHIELD briefings, Cap. I’m only one step up from a necessary evil.”

“Demonstrates compulsive behavior, self-destructive tendencies and textbook narcissism,” Steve quoted Agent Romanov’s report with annoying accuracy. “I’ve seen the official documents. All of them. Do you know how many versions of that assessment there are?”

Tony laughed. “Don’t kid a kidder, Rogers. You think I didn’t look for anything SHIELD had on me when I went strolling through their files?” Polishing off his drink to shake off his annoyance, Tony stood and walked with purpose back to the bar.

“You looked through their computer files,” Steve said, turning in his chair to face Tony and watched as Stark froze in place for three heartbeats.

“Paper,” Tony whispered incredulously, “that devious bastard.”

“They knew there was a risk of you getting into their system. After all, no one’s been able to block you yet. So, they wrote up what they wanted, printed it out, deleted it off the computer system, and kept the ones you already know about.” Steve explained.

“And you found these copies somewhere?” Tony asked with obvious admiration in his tone.

Steve picked up his drink and walked to the bar to join his teammate. “Not exactly,” he admitted. “I got access to Agent Coulson’s effects after his office was stripped and found enough references in his copies of his reports to realize that they existed. He had some very interesting things to say.”

Tony raised one eyebrow, a silent query on how he’d gained access to Coulson’s notes.

Steve shrugged. “Sometimes it pays to be the guy everybody trusts,” he explained vaguely.

“Nice,” Tony chuckled. Clanking his scotch against Steve’s glass, Tony lifted his drink in a salute and silent toast.

Both men knocked back their drinks and Tony obligingly refilled both glasses, no longer bothering with ice. “Fury’s going to be so pissed if he ever finds out,” Tony remarked as he set the bottle back onto the bar.

“Oh, he knows,” Steve remarked casually. “I told him.”

“What?!” Tony choked out, voice raised in disbelief. “You told him? You told him. Of course you told him. You’re you.” Leaning across the bar, Tony got his face right up to Steve’s and stared him hard in the eyes. “You just can’t stop being a Boy Scout, can you? And it’s not the serum, you were always this way. Am I right?” 

Tony’s voice was equal parts admiration, exasperation, and disbelief so Steve decided not to take offense at the sarcasm, but he did pick up his drink and retreat back to his chair. “I’m not crazy about the man’s tactics, he can be cruel and underhanded, but I can understand why he does it. Fury’s responsible for the safety of the entire world.”

“So he either tells his people nothing or feeds them a pack of lies?” 

Steve sighed. “He’s a soldier. He compartmentalizes. He shields. He protects.”

“He moves us around like pawns and treats us like robots,” Tony snapped. 

“Not robots, Tony,” Steve countered, “assets. We’re assets in a war and believe it or not, he does care in his own way. You don’t waste assets. Like it or not, in a war, you will lose people, soldiers and civilians alike.” Steve paused and took a sip of his drink before continuing. “I saw enough of it during the war to recognize it. As a general, your job is to lose as few of your people as possible while taking out as many of the enemy as you can and if you’re sending important assets into danger, you’d better be damn sure the risk is worth the return. It sounds cold and heartless, and it is, but that’s what war is like. I hate it with every fiber of my being, but it’s the truth.” Steve’s voice had gone from firm to grim as he spoke and when he finished he lifted the scotch to his lips and drank deeply.

Tony watched as Steve tried to get himself back under control. It was clear that this discussion had brought up bad memories and as much as he wished he could let it drop, let Steve be, Tony still had questions and Steve had answers. More calmly, he asked, “So he lies and tells me nothing because…”

“Because you can’t make those decisions, Stark,” Steve answered. “You never have and you never will. You take every danger, every risk on yourself and won’t consider any option that puts anyone else in danger. You run solo because you don’t want anyone else to die. You’re willing to die yourself, but you won’t risk anyone else and that’s what a leader has to do, it’s what a team has to do.” 

As Steve was giving his explanation, he noticed Tony’s eyes go slightly unfocused and guessed that his mind had gone somewhere else. “Yinsen,” Steve deduced quietly.

Tony’s head snapped around and he looked almost angry before his features sagged and he nodded. “You have done your homework,” he muttered before taking another swallow of scotch. “He waited until I was in the armor and couldn’t stop him. He grabbed a gun and ran down the tunnels, buying me time he said, but he never intended to leave. His family was dead and he never told me. He let me believe we would walk out of there together.” Tony went silent and leaned on his elbow with the glass to his forehead.

“Fury was afraid you’d go down in flames if you kept taking on bigger and bigger missions solo. He was trying to get you to slow down, sober up, and piss you off enough to keep you out of SHIELD’s war unless it was absolutely necessary,” Steve explained softly.

“Cruel to be kind, is that it?” Tony asked.

Steve shrugged. “Something like that. I learned a little bit about silent interrogation from watching Black Widow. You can find out a lot by asking around something and then just listening, but this is Nick Fury we’re talking about so who knows.” Steve paused to take a drink and chortled softly. “It’s just as possible he actually hates your guts and just strung me along to mess with my head and get even.”

Both men laughed out loud at that idea. “Now THAT sounds like the Nick Fury that I know,” Tony observed. “Never get mad, get even.”

“What about you,” Steve asked. “Do you get mad or get even?”

Tony looked over at a now slightly drunk Steve Rogers and registered his nervousness. “Apparently I get shawarma and scotch, which, by the way, works fine for me as long as I don’t have to drink alone.” Tony gestured with his hand. “Bottoms up, Cap.”

Steve smiled broadly, tossed back his scotch, and sank deeper into the well cushioned chair. “That’s a relief. I was afraid you’d be angry that I went digging around for information.”

“About me? Hah. Most of the world’s press seem to have every detail of my life committed to memory. You probably should have started with them.”

“I did,” Steve admitted. “By the way, Christine Everhart said to tell you ‘hello’.”

“Christine?” Tony mused quietly before sipping his drink and trying to put a face to the name.

“Pretty blonde from Vanity Fair,” Steve supplied the missing clue.

Tony choked a little and coughed twice, “oh, um, yeah, Christine; Brown University.”

“Really? I thought Brown was an all male college.” Steve asked pointlessly.

“It went co-ed in 1971 when it merged with Pembroke,” Tony answered, happy to be off the subject of Ms. Brown.

Steve stared out the window at the city lights for a few minutes before turning back to inquire, “What were we talking about?”

“You were expressing a desire to make amends over prying into my personal life and I was going to get you another drink,” Tony answered hopefully, doing his best to turn the tables on the conversation.

“Don’t you think I’ve had enough, Stark? I did bring the scotch for you,” Steve protested.

“No, no, people are always telling me I shouldn’t drink alone. You don’t want to make me drink alone, do you?”

“I suppose not,” Steve answered as he handed over his glass.

Tony smiled. Steve Rogers was just about the right level of tipsy. He wasn’t overly drunk. With his metabolism it was probably damned difficult to get him really drunk and in another hour he’d probably be sober, so he had to work quickly. Pouring the last of the bottle into the pair of glasses, Tony handed Steve’s back to him and reclaimed his seat.

“So,” Tony started, sounding as guileless as he could manage. “You know pretty much everything there is to know. Not that I mind. Really. It’s fine. Not a problem.” Tony paused and glanced at Steve out of the corner of his eye and saw him sink further and further into the chair each time he magnanimously protested that everything was fine. “If it really bothers you though…” Another glance.

Steve’s eyes had that hopeful glow and Tony tried hard to keep the excitement off of his face. “Well,” Tony continued mock thoughtfully. “I suppose if you tell me some secret about yourself, something no one knows. Well…”

Steve suddenly looked so green that Tony actually felt a little guilty. He tried to reach for Steve’s glass thinking that Rogers was suffering the effects of too much alcohol, but Steve raised the glass to his lips and downed the contents in one gulp.

Steve blew out a deep breath, nodded at some internal debate, set the glass on the table and turned to look Tony directly in the eyes. “I’m gay.”

Silence.

Just two little words and suddenly the universe was a very different place for both men.

“Wow.” Tony finally managed to utter the very unhelpful, monosyllabic response, but Steve didn’t seem to notice or care. Gently, Tony touched Steve’s wrist to get his attention and when their eyes met, said, “Thank you. You honestly didn’t need to tell me and I appreciate you sharing the confidence.”

Nerves finally visible, Steve swallowed and tried to speak through a suddenly dry mouth. “I know that today that sort of thing doesn’t mean what it used to, but…”

“It doesn’t mean nothing,” Tony finished the sentiment. “I get it, honestly, probably better than you think. It wasn’t that long ago that gays and lesbians were banned from serving in the military and people who are gay still don’t have the same kinds of protection from discrimination that the straight world has. A lot of people have come out of the closet and a lot of people haven’t.” Tony stood, walked back to the small bar, and opened one of his own bottles of scotch.

Steve cocked his head to the side and watched as Tony poured out more alcohol. Picking up his own glass, Steve walked over to join him at the bar. “Want to tell me why we’re still drinking?” Steve asked sensing a problem.

“Do we need a reason?” Tony responded reaching out with the bottle to offer a refill for Steve as well.

Steve pulled his glass back towards himself. It was only an inch, but the point was made. “I don’t know if we need a reason, but I’m pretty sure you have one.” Steve paused a moment before asking, “Do you feel uncomfortable around me now? Is that it?”

“Hell, no,” Tony insisted and Steve could tell that he meant it because Stark looked almost relieved at the choice of question. “I swear it’s fine.”

“I believe you, Tony. So what is it that’s bugging you?”

Tony slammed his drink down onto the bar and walked away from it. It wasn’t helping anyway. “Damn it,” he cursed softly as he looked down over the lights of Manhattan that included the construction lights highlighting damaged buildings. Life was short. Life was fragile. “Don’t waste it,” he whispered echoing Yinsen’s ghost in his thoughts.

“Don’t waste it?” Steve asked, suddenly behind him and looking both curious and nervous.

“Something someone said to me once,” Tony answered unhelpfully.

“What did I do wrong?” Steve asked, emphasizing each word.

“You told the truth,” Tony replied. “You did what you always do and threw yourself into a mission body and soul and told the whole, unvarnished truth just because I asked you to.”

“And I wasn’t supposed to?” Steve asked, very confused. “I was supposed to lie?”

“I lied,” Tony answered in a quick, clipped tone.

“You lied about…” Steve rifled through his memories trying to figure out what Tony was talking about. “What, Brown isn’t co-ed?”

“What? Brown?” Tony was so shocked he turned to face Rogers and chuckled. “No. God, you’re priceless. I’ve gotta drink with you more often.” Tony took a deep breath. “I’m pissed at myself because I feel guilty about getting you to tell me something so personal when the truth is that I still have a secret of my own.”

“Well, that’s easy enough to fix,” Steve responded cheerfully. “Just tell me what it is and then we’re even again.”

Tony blinked twice, thought about arguing with Steve’s easy, almost child-like logic, and then gave up. 

All Steve saw was Tony shaking his head violently and then banging it against the window. “Tony, stop that,” Steve insisted, grabbing the man by the arms and physically restraining him. “Whatever it is, it can’t be that big a deal.” Steve paused. “Wait, you said other people aren’t out, but you didn’t mean yourself. You aren’t gay, are you?”

“Well, technically I’m bi, but that’s not really--”

“You’re only bi-lingual?” Steve cut in to ask. “I thought your dossier said you spoke more languages than that.”

“Not bi-lingual, bi-sexual.” Tony thought he’d clarified the point, but he could see the confusion written across Steve’s face. Bi-sexual was apparently not part of the lingo in the 40’s and Tony decided to forestall any possible questions about potential hermaphrodism that might be going through his teammate’s mind by giving a clear, hands-on, or rather, lips on definition of the word.

The kiss started out aggressively, fueled as it was by frustration, guilt, and scotch and Steve caught onto the meaning of the word very quickly.

When they finally came up for air, Steve licked his lips and whispered breathily in Tony’s ear. “You have three choices: tell me what you’re hiding, get us another drink, or do that again.”

Tony groaned and fantasized briefly about doing all three…in his bedroom…with Steve naked on the bed…and then he groaned again because he knew it couldn’t happen.

“Pepper’s been covering for me,” Tony whispered so quietly that even with his enhanced hearing Steve wondered if he’d really heard it.

Tony decided two out of three wasn’t bad and stalked back to the bar to retrieve his drink. “Pepper is the best thing in my life. She’s been my lifeline to the world for years and she’s the nearest thing to a family that I have. I owe her…everything.” He paused and chuckled. “I tried to give her the company once and she all but tossed it back at me.”

Steve blushed and rubbed the back of his neck, his eyes downcast. “You love each other. I get it. I’m sorry for--”

“Whoa, whoa, slow down,” Tony interrupted the guilty sounding apology. “I’m not good at this truth thing. Give me a chance to get it all out, huh?” Tony smiled encouragingly and continued. “We love each other, but we’re not in love.”

Steve’s confusion was clear and Tony sighed and decided to opt for the longer version of the story.

“We tried. When I got back from Afghanistan, everything had changed. I had changed and Pepper was still reeling over nearly losing me as well. At first, I was the one who was all for trying a relationship and she thought it was weird. Then she tried and I thought it was weird. Then we both tried, but that’s just it, we were trying. You see, the thing is that she’s my best friend, my right hand, an extra lung. We function so well together and we’re both so alone and it seemed like the right thing to do. After a while though, it was just so obvious and I couldn’t do it anymore. We’re still close, I’m closer to her than anyone and if I was going to die, she’s the one person that I’d want to talk to; tried to talk to in fact, but she didn’t answer her phone that day. She’s the one person that I just can’t be a selfish bastard with because I need her so much.”

“And you have to be a selfish bastard?” Steve asked. “I don’t get it. You’ve changed since you came back. You seemed so committed to one relationship. You certainly haven’t been sleeping around the way you used to. How does any part of that make you a selfish bastard? You act like a man who wants something permanent.”

“Exactly,” Tony agreed vehemently.

“And you think that makes you selfish?” Steve probed, not understanding.

“Yes,” Tony replied, grateful that Steve seemed to have caught on.

The only thing that Steve had caught, however, was Tony’s frustration. Pushing Tony to one side, Steve poured himself another drink, drank it down in one gulp, and tried again. “Are you in love with Pepper?”

“No.”

“Okay…Are you dating Pepper?”

“Sort of.”

“Define, ‘sort of’ please.”

“We’re dating, but only in the public eye to keep the press, the stockholders, the groupies, and SHIELD happy.”

“Because…you don’t want to date anyone else and you don’t want to answer any questions as to why?”

“Yes! See the scotch helps, doesn’t it?” Tony asked enthusiastically.

“And yet Pepper is still sober after all of these years,” Steve observed sarcastically. “I should have just called her and asked her to translate your Stark speak and this would have gone a lot faster.” Steve took a deep breath. “Okay, I know I’m probably pushing my luck here, but one more question.”

“Shoot.”

“Why don’t you at least want to try to find someone special? I get the not wanting to serial date the way you used to, but you haven’t been with anyone…”

“Ding. You finally got there, didn’t you? I haven’t been with anyone at all since Afghanistan.”

“But that’s been--”

“Yeah, yeah and you were on ice for a few decades so watch the cracks about dry spells,” Tony cut in.

Steve scowled at Tony who mumbled an incoherent apology. “Don’t joke, Stark. This is serious. Why are you…abstaining? Is it physical, emotional, or psychological?”

“Let’s just say I have trust issues and leave it at that, okay, Cap?” Tony growled.

“Fine,” Steve replied although it was clear from the tone of his voice that it was anything but. “And so Pepper is covering for you?”

Tony nodded.

“And just how long are you going to let her do that for you?” Steve asked, a hint of disapproval tinting his voice.

Steve watched the dawning realization on Tony’s face. He’d thought he’d be a bastard if he tried to force a relationship with Pepper that could only end with her being hurt, but a fake one with no attachments still left her unavailable to look for her own happiness.

“Shit,” Tony remarked simply but passionately.

Steve pushed the scotch bottle in Tony’s direction and Stark put it to use.

“I take it back,” Tony said off-handedly.

“Take back what?” Steve asked.

“You’re not so much fun to drink with after all,” Tony answered and leaned heavily on the bar. “This is why I hate talking about serious stuff. It never ends well.”

Steve smiled back at him; a broad, happy, unsettling smile that spoke volumes and said nothing and Tony found himself slightly worried. “Aren’t you the same Tony Stark who disavows the existence of the no-win scenario? Why does this have to end badly just because it’s your life and not your job?”

Tony looked thoughtful for a moment and walked back to the window. “It’s emotions and feelings and thoughts and hearts and I’m not good with any of that. Give me numbers and formulas and raw materials and paper and I’m good, but this… I’ve been shot at by an F-22 and I promise this is way scarier.”

Steve followed Tony across the room, stood close enough for their shoulder to touch and asked, “Who said, ‘don’t waste it’?”

“Yinsen; it was the last thing he said to me. I thanked him for saving me, giving me a second chance at life and he said, ‘don’t waste it’.”

There was silence in the room after that, not an awkward silence, rather the kind that comes when there is simply nothing left to say. Each man turned to face the other and the kiss, when it came, was slow and soft and tender. Though it was tinged with pain, it was full of the promises and the hope that is found in second chances whether you rise from the desert like a phoenix reborn or you’re resurrected from an arctic ice flow. It’s life and love and it bursts out of the human heart and soul and begs to be given flight. It was a rare opportunity to grab some measure of happiness for themselves and when the chance came, neither one was capable of walking away.

“Bed,” Steve asked when speech was briefly an option.

“Wall,” Tony offered, not sure he wanted to let go of Steve long enough to walk to his bedroom.

“Bed,” Steve insisted.

Tony nodded and started to lead the way, but with each step his overactive mind played out all his fears and doubts about the wisdom of starting something with The American Hero. Facing the bedroom door, Tony found himself frozen in place.

Strong arms reached around him from behind and lips softly kissed the back of his neck. “Take me to bed, Stark,” Steve’s deep voice demanded and Tony moved forward one step at a time until they stood by the massive bed.

Grabbing the hem of his t-shirt, Steve pulled it over his head in one smooth move and reached out to do the same for Tony’s. As the glowing arc reactor in his chest was fully revealed, Tony watched for Steve’s reaction, a move the soldier didn’t miss. Leaning forward, Steve tongued each of Tony’s nipples and rubbed his face over the glass plate that covered the miniature power station. “Were you really that worried about how I’d react when I saw it?” Steve asked. “It’s a part of you, no different than an arm or a leg.”

“I’ve accepted that it’s a part of me,” Tony answered quietly. “That doesn’t keep others from staring at it like it’s an oddity though and you and I both know that it’s far different than an arm or a leg.” 

Tony was busy running his hands all over Steve’s bare torso so Steve was content to let the rebuttal pass unchallenged.

“You haven’t got a single mark on you; no scars at all, do you?” Stark commented in a wondering whisper as he continued his explorations.

“Why don’t you uncover the rest and find out for yourself,” Steve suggested and moved Tony’s hands to the button of his jeans.

While Tony slid Steve’s jeans off, Steve spied a glass door off to the side. “What’s that,” he asked curiously.

Tony tore his eyes away from the delicious bulge tempting him and forced himself to look in the direction of Steve’s gaze. “Walk-in shower,” he answered. “Interested?” Tony waggled his eyebrows suggestively and Steve realized that Tony might win the great wall versus bed debate after all.

“Fine,” Steve huffed, his voice feigning an exasperation that had nothing to do with reality and the pair shucked their remaining clothing to enter the massive shower cube.

With marble walls, a heated limestone floor, eight jets and room for four, the shower was a decadence Steve could never have imagined in his wildest dreams. Tony had the heaters and hot water on with a mere push of a button and within seconds Steve found himself pressed up against a wall surrounded by wet warmth and being kissed savagely.

When Tony came up for air, Steve laughed. “You really love your shower, don’t you?”

“I do today,” Tony admitted before latching his mouth at the junction of Steve’s neck and shoulder and sucking hard. 

Busy hands groped in the hot water, running over pecs and abs, cocks and asses. “Oh hell yes,” Tony urged when Steve finally took hold of Tony’s cock and Steve growled his own approval when Tony returned the favor.

Steam rose from the shower walls and between the two groaning men now thrusting wildly into unfamiliar hands. Tony ran his free hand over Steve’s back and finally settled on one well-muscled ass cheek. Gripping it tightly and using it as leverage to add power to their thrusts. Steve’s free hand roamed over Tony’s tightly corded arm and shoulder before coming to rest at the back of Stark’s neck and using it to seal their lips together even tighter than before. 

As good as it felt, it couldn’t last long and, groaning, Steve spilled over Tony’s hand seconds before Tony grunted and came as well. While both men leaned on the marble wall and caught their breath, the aggressive jets of water washed away all traces of their passion.

When he’d finally recovered enough to feel his limbs again, Tony reached out, turned off the water, and passed Steve a heated towel.

Steve dried himself, slowly at first, and avoided looking at Tony. With their ferocious passion now burned away, it was Steve who was suddenly nervous. 

In the 40’s, sex for gay men was risky at best and even more so for a soldier in the army. A secret signal given and received followed by a quick hand job in some supply closet or the back of an empty truck after which both parties each went their own way without a word spoken was the way of things. 

Steve had dreams he’d barely admitted to himself let alone another soul that involved simply going to sleep lying on a bed next to someone and waking up with them the next day. Echoes of that long strangled dream reared its head at the first touch of Tony’s lips and now as he toweled himself viciously, Steve tried to shove those inconvenient thoughts back into their virtual locker.

Gentle hands tugged the towel away from Steve and hung it over a bar. “Bed,” Tony’s whisper boomed in the stone enclosed space.

Steve tried and failed to keep the look of surprise off of his face.

“You really thought I was going to toss you out, didn’t you?” Tony paused and shook his head. “I’ve gotta get a better PR department.”

“It’s not your reputation, Tony. It’s my own past chasing me this time.”

Tony nodded. He wasn’t sure he understood, but he was unwilling to ask any questions that might spoil the moment, figuring that, instead, Steve would talk to him about it when he was ready and the time was right. Stroking Steve’s damp hair out of his face, Tony ran his hand down Steve’s cheek, shoulder, and arm before clasping his hand. “Bed,” he said simply once again.

Steve followed Tony’s lead and allowed himself to be tucked into the massive bed with sheets softer than any he’d ever felt before.

Tony punched at his pillow and laid on his side facing Steve. “So, just to be clear here,” Tony started. “You don’t have anything against spending the night, right?”

“No,” Steve answered quietly and simply to avoid having his voice betray his feelings. It seemed silly to be nervous and excited now, but unlike what they’d done in the shower, this was uncharted territory for him.

“Good, good, good,” Tony responded gleefully. “Because I still haven’t quite decided if I like you better drunk or sober and those sorts of exhaustive research projects would be a lot easier to conduct if you’d just move in here permanently and-- Shit!”

“What is it,” Steve asked, quickly pushing himself up on one elbow and trying to discern the source of Tony’s sudden mood shift.

Tony rolled onto his back and flopped one arm heavily to the side. “Fury’s gonna kill me when he finds out about this. You’re his poster boy for all that’s good in the world. You’re the only normal guy on the whole team and I’ve…corrupted you.”

Steve rolled his eyes and eased himself back down onto the luxurious bed. He’d had years of being the poster boy and was fed up with it. As for corrupting him, Steve had ideas of things he’d like to try on the sexy man next to him that might just surprise even the great and experienced Tony Stark. Fury could like it or lump it, but Steve wasn’t giving up his dream now that it was so close and smelled and looked and tasted so good. “So don’t tell him,” he advised casually.

At Tony’s shocked look, Steve added, “What, you have to tell him everything? What are you, a Boy Scout? Clearly someone’s had a seriously bad influence on you.”


End file.
